Fatal attraction
by winchester-sweetheart
Summary: When Dean meets Adelaide he thinks a one night stand is all he's getting himself into. When Sam meets Imogen he thinks her secrets are nothing to worry too much about. Boy were they wrong. Includes Hurt!Sam and on a lesser scale Hurt!Dean. My first fanfic
1. A bullseye

Sam Winchester stared straight ahead. He concentrated on the dartboard in the far corner of the room, trying to add up what the possibility of scoring a bullseye was. He was tired… Really tired. Still he waited patiently for his brother to give up on the night. As he slumped down into his seat further he glanced into his half-empty beer bottle, the second of the night.

'_Not nearly enough,'_ he thought to himself before taking a long swig, leaving only the backwash in the glass container.

He chanced a look over to the bar and saw what he had expected; Dean on his sixth bottle, brushing his hand through the blonde hair of what looked like a teenage girl. Sam sighed and smirked, this girl was new, the third one tonight and most definitely not the last.

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It took another hour before Dean remembered his brother was still in the room. He staggered drunkenly through the ever-thinning crowd to the small table where Sam sat alone.

Sam knew his brother was coming when he heard someone behind him burp loudly before bursting into the giggles, he couldn't help but laugh as well.

"M-man, you gotta see this chick!" Dean slurred and glanced back to the bar. "I think her name's Britney or something."

Sam couldn't help but look back at the bar also to see the woman. It wasn't the teenage blonde from before, but a mature-looking red head that sat with her hands in her pockets and her feet crossed. She looked sensible enough, what she saw in Dean was anyone's guess.

"Dude, you stink," was Sam's response. "How many have you had?"

"Girls?"

"No, Dean, beers."

"Uh, I dunno. Um… Like a few," Dean thought out loud. He lifted his hand up into the air and bringing down one finger at a time, miming numbers. There must have been more beers than fingers because he scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Are you ready to go?" Sam asked.

"You know, Sam, there's a really good chance that I won't be going home with you. You're not my type."

With that Dean laughed and stumbled back to the girl waiting for him on the bar. Sam rolled his eyes but stayed seated. After the things he'd been through in the last year all he wanted to do was stay near his brother. It had been thirteen months since Dean had made the deal to save Sam's life, a month since he was supposed to have been taken to hell. That is if Sam hadn't intervened, if he hadn't worked tirelessly to get his sibling off the hook, if he hadn't refused to give up without a fight. He had found a loophole and he had saved Dean for a change. It felt good. The crossroad demon was dead, of course she wasn't the only demon of that breed, but she was the one that wanted Dean's soul and right now that was the only one that mattered. Sam had since made as much effort as he could to appreciate his big brother, although it was hard to respect him when he was stumbling all over himself drunk. It was entertaining though.

Sam had made a game for himself; he tried to guess which one of the many bar girls Dean would go home with. Tonight he had known the blonde wouldn't last, but the redhead maybe.

He looked back up to the dartboard but noticed that he could no longer see it. A girl stood in between him and the wall. He watched her move her hips to the music, a slow beat that complemented her dancing ability. She noticed him staring at her and smiled sweetly directly at him. The first thing Sam noticed about her when he could get over her overwhelming dance ability was her height, she had to be at least 5'9. She had shoulder-length, dyed black hair that swept across her forehead, covering her left eye. The visible eye was the colour of an ocean, not green, but not quite blue with dark eye make-up underlining it. Her skin was pale but seemed lighter due to the fact that she wore all dark colours. A navy blue 'Ramones' T-shirt covered some sort of green long-sleeved shirt, black skinny jeans and a black, studded belt was her entire ensemble. She wasn't thin, but she wasn't adipose either, she was solid, curvy.

She picked up her bottle of water and started toward his table.

'_No, don't come here. I wasn't undressing you with my eyes, I promise.'_ He silently pleaded with her; trying to rationalise the fact that he was attracted to her physically, and he was, in fact, undressing her with his eyes. It had been a long time since he had really undressed a woman, and that had ended exceptionally badly.

"Hi," the woman chirped at him. "Is someone sitting here?"

She pointed at the empty seat on the other side of his table.

"Uh, no."

"Good," she breathed, sitting down next him and putting her full bottle next to his empty one. "I'm exhausted, I've been dancing for ages."

"Yeah, I noticed," he replied in a suave voice. "You looked really good… I mean not that I was watching you, I wasn't. You might not have been dancing well at all… but you were. Oh God, I'm sorry."

She smiled at him, it wasn't a flirtatious smile, but a sympathetic one. She raised her hand for him to shake.

"Don't even worry about it. I'm Imogen, I was watching you first."

Sam took her hand and shook slowly, thankful that she had saved him from a potentially embarrassing situation. He smiled at her kindly.

"I'm Sam."

"Nice to meet you Sam," Imogen replied.

"You have a really unusual accent," he pointed out. "Where are you from?"

"I was raised in Melbourne, at the bottom end of Australia. I moved here a few years ago."

"I've always wanted to visit Australia," he confided. "I just never got around to it. I wanted to see Sydney."

"Australia's beautiful," she leaned closer to his ear. "But just between us, Sydney's a dump."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"So, Sam," she started to change the subject. "Why are you sitting here all alone? You don't look like socialising kind. No offence."

"None taken," he smiled at her. "My brother dragged me here, he's decided to see how much he can drink before he vomits on his female friend. How come are you here, dancing all by yourself?"

"My friend decided that I needed some down time, although I think she's getting more action than she bargained for."

Imogen leaned towards Sam and pointed to the bar. She pointed to the red-head, who now had her hand on Dean's knee.

"That's my friend, Adelaide," her smile widened. "She hasn't been in a relationship in a while."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. Her name wasn't even close to Britney; it started with an entirely different letter.

"What?" Imogen asked as if she was being kept out of a huge secret.

"That's my brother she's with."

"No way!" She exclaimed. "That's so weird."

It was then that Sam noticed the ring on Imogen's left hand. On her ring finger no less. It was white gold and had a moderately sized diamond in it. He wasn't sure whether to ask about it or not, but it made him feel a little strange about flirting with her. It wasn't really the kind of thing you ask someone you just met, but the last thing Sam wanted was her outraged fiancée jumping him in the car park. Somehow this situation didn't lessen his attraction to her but he decided it was best to ask about it.

"Are you engaged?" Sam asked bluntly.

Suddenly her smile faded, the first time since she had swayed into his company and he instantly regretted asking her.

"Sorry," he exclaimed. "I didn't mean to…"

"No," she cut him off. "It's okay, um, it's hard to explain. I'd rather not talk about it though, if that's okay?"

"Of course," he said. "It's none of my business."

She forced a smile and leaned her head sideways.

"I can't believe that's your brother."

Her attempt to lighten the mood worked slightly. The two talked long into the night, without delving too deeply into each other's personal lives.


	2. Britney

Dean sat at the bar with the girl he thought was named Britney for a long time before remembering again that his brother was alone. He excused himself to his company before heading in Sam's direction. He stopped short when he saw the girl sitting and laughing with Sam at his table.

'_Good boy, Sammy.'_ Dean thought and turned dizzily back to the girl with the red hair.

"Your place or mine?" He flashed her a dazzling smile.

"Mine," she answered him. "I'm sure yours is some kind of dingy hotel."

Dean was turned on by the girl's Texan accent, it was slight, but it was there.

"One more drink?" He hiccupped in her face. "For the trip?"

"No, let's just go. I've got beer in my fridge. You can have that for free."

Dean grabbed her hand and swung her into his arms. He took one last look at his brother and managed to make eye contact. He had made sure that Sam had the key to their hotel just in case something like this was to happen.

As he and 'Britney' left the pub he started towards the Impala before realising that he was WAY too drunk to drive.

"Is your place walking distance, Brit?"

"Yeah, Ted."

"My name's Dean," He corrected her. "D-E-A-N."

"Well, my name's Adelaide."

Dean crackled into laughter; Adelaide had to hold him up by his shirt collar. Evidently the woman was strong and not nearly as drunk as Dean was. All the way to her apartment he laughed and apologised and flirted with her.

She wanted sex and he knew it. The look she gave him was the same look he gave girls when he wanted sex. He wanted it now as well, he missed it.

As soon as they were in the apartment door he ripped her top off, revealing a black bra underneath.

"Hello, ladies," Dean spoke to her breasts. "Daddy's home."

Before he could go any further she pushed him away and headed for the kitchen.

"I'll get you a beer." She called.

When she returned she still only wore jeans and a bra but she carried a beer bottle in both hands.

"Before we go any further," she started. "Have a beer."

Dean grabbed the one she held out to her and took a mouthful. It tasted unusual, different to the ones he had drank at the pub. It was bitter.

Adelaide pushed him to the bed, but stayed standing herself. She picked up the top that she had recently been stripped of and slipped it back over her head.

"What are you doing, Red?"

"Don't you worry," She replied soothingly. "Don't worry about a thing."

All of a sudden he felt tired, it took no time at all for him to hardly be able to lift his eyelids.

'_This is weird.'_

He began to drift to sleep on the bed. The pillows felt like clouds supporting his head and the mattress was heaven. He knew that he'd have a hangover in the morning and that he'd have no sex tonight, but it didn't matter right now. Right now he was going to sleep on a luscious woman's bed, and she didn't seem to mind in the least.


	3. Meeting

Finally Sam left the pub alone. He assumed Dean had gone home with Adelaide, he had seen them leave together with their tongues sticking down each other's throats. He had stayed for several hours after Dean had left; it was now early in the morning. He felt exhilarated after having talked with Imogen non-stop for the most part of the night, making her laugh, playing word games with her and finally exchanging phone numbers. She was beautiful, smart, and quirky and she seemed to genuinely understand Sam. The only thing that concerned him was the fact that she wore an engagement ring on her wedding finger. He had tried his best all night to avoid the subject but his eyes seemed to always end up guiltily on her hand.

He concluded that he would ask her the next day at breakfast, they had planned to meet at the only café in town for some toast. He was already looking foreword to tomorrow.

Sam woke up the next morning with a start. His eyes sprung open suddenly as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, breathing heavily. It took him a moment to remember where he was. He didn't remember the dream he had just had but he assumed it had been a nightmare. His forehead was wet with sweat and his fringe clung to it like a magnet. Not remembering didn't bother him, in fact it was a relief not having to visualise Jessica dying again, or the pain that Jake had inflicted on him. It wasn't very often these days that he didn't have to think about these incidents during the night.

Sam glanced at the empty single bed across the room and it took no time at all to remember that Dean hadn't come home last night. He suspected that his brother will have a few issues today, what with the hang-over and all and Sam was glad that he wasn't the one who had to put up with his whining today. _'Poor Adelaide.'_

"Holy crap!" Sam had glanced at the digital clock by his bed; it was only ten minutes until he planned to meet Imogen.

He instantly sprang into action. He pulled his sweat drenched night t-shirt over his head and used the towel hanging in his bathroom to dry himself slightly. He then threw his pants off and replaced them with a pair of jeans he had left lying next to his bed the night before. The last thing he did was dry his hair off partially with the towel. As soon as he left the hotel room he instantly regretted not taking a shower or brushing his teeth. What if Imogen thought he was a slob?

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He arrived at the café five minutes later than the agreed time and instantly noticed Imogen. This morning she wore her hair up in a very loose bun. Both eyes were visible today, but only just. He noticed that the eye she had protected last night had a large, purple bruise underneath it. His first thought was that she must have tripped over, but that thought only lasted for a minute. Then it hit him; maybe this was her fiancee's doing, maybe that's why she didn't want to talk about the ring. He desperately wanted to ask her, it took lots of strength to. He was suddenly overwhelmed with unwarranted anger. He wanted to yell at her and tell her that she deserved better than an abusive boyfriend, that if she were with him he'd protect her. He would treat her like a princess.

He bit his tongue and forced a smile onto his face.

"Hey, Sam," she greeted him happily. "You look like you just woke up."

"I did," he replied instantly, trying to think of a way to bring up her eye. "Like twenty minutes ago."

She laughed, her voice breezy and welcoming. He wanted to kiss her.

"Have you heard from Adelaide this morning?" He asked her, half wanting to make her stop laughing that irresistible laugh and half wanting to know whether his brother had spent the night with her. "Dean didn't come home last night."

"Um, no, no I don't think I have. I never got that whole one night stand thing. I'm a sucker for conversation," She mockingly winked at him and pushed her hair behind her ears. "Or the first guy who comes along."

He didn't smile at her joke, he couldn't get his mind off her ring, off her fiancee and he couldn't stop himself looking at her bruised eye.

She feigned a hurt look when it seemed he didn't get her joke.

"Jeez Sam, don't, humour me or anything," she stated sarcastically. "I thought you were a nice guy, a nice guy would at least pretend to laugh."

"No, sorry," he replied distractedly. He decided then that he would ask her. "I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to be totally honest with me."

"I hope it's nothing too personal," she stated. "Nothing like my bra size or anything? I just met you last night, that would be a conversation best kept for the third date."

She smiled warmly at him. She was beautiful.

"How did you hurt your eye?" He blatantly asked, keeping his voice low and non-intrusive. "Was it… Was it your fiancee?"

The sides of her mouth suddenly dropped into a frown. She didn't want to answer him and he knew that she didn't. She took a sip of the water in front of her before abruptly rising from her seat.

"I'm sorry," she looked into his eyes like a wounded deer. "I have to go."

She dropped money onto the table before beginning to stride away. She wasn't fast enough. Sam grabbed her upper arm and held her there. He looked into her eyes, willing her to answer him.

"Imogen…"

"You're a good guy, Sam," she smiled sadly. "I really am sorry."

With that she pulled away. He let her.

He had known that such a discussion would lead to her walking out on him, he'd just hoped that it would be after she answered his question. He remained sitting at the table trying to think of what to do next. Several times he scrolled down to her name on his phones memory, but he thought it inappropriate to call it.


	4. missing

Dean Winchester woke to the smell of ashes. They crawled into his nostrils and into his airways causing him cough them up. He opened his eyes slowly, making sure that he hadn't gone blind. To his relief he could see, if not a little hazily, the basement in which he sat.

The minute he tried to pull himself to his feet he realised that he couldn't. Automatically he assumed that his legs weren't working properly but quickly understood it was because his arms wouldn't allow him to move.

A quick assessment of the situation had Dean figure out that he couldn't move because his arms were tied to a stationary object somewhere behind his back.

He tried desperately to recall where he had been last night, what he'd done to end up here. He drew nothing but groggy blanks. He remembered the beers he drank and instantly knew why there was nothing in his short-term memory blank; this was not only a kidnapping, but he was also hung-over.

Dean thought of his options before deciding that he had none but to wait out his captor.

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Sam sat on his brother's bed trying to think of what to do. His brother hadn't come home all day. It was getting dark outside and Dean's impala was still parked in the car park of the pub. He had never gone this long without calling… Never.

Sam had looked after his brother all year; he had finally been the saviour. Protecting Dean had become his mission, slowly but surely their roles had been reversed. Dean, who had once been the rock had become helpless and it was Sam who had pulled him through. He'd made Dean believe he would get through the year alive and he had. Sam had saved Dean, Dean was going to live.

But at this moment Sam's heart dropped and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't lose his brother, not like this, not after everything they'd been through this year.

'_Calm down, Sam! He might not even be in trouble; he may still be in Adelaide's bed, asleep and with a massive hangover.' _He tried to tell himself.

But he knew; Sam knew that Dean was in trouble. He knew to trust this feeling, the sinking feeling in his gut. The heart-wrenching sensation he had felt when Dean admitted that he'd given his soul had returned. Sam would never let Dean know how he felt that day, the moment Dean confessed that he only had a year left to live Sam had died a little inside.

He brushed his hand through his hair and tried to clear his mind. Nothing came to him. No ideas, no thoughts, no plans, just a hopeless feeling. Not just hopeless, he was helpless.


	5. One crazy bitch

Dean suddenly awoke to the sound of rustling. Footsteps echoed throughout his hefty prison. He forced his disagreeing eyelids apart just enough to see a dark figure shuffling around him cautiously. His eyes were not yet accustomed to the light, so he couldn't see its face.

Was it a demon? It couldn't possibly have been a ghost.

'_Think! C'mon Dean! What's the last thing you remember?'_ He scolded himself. And yet the only thing he could recall was arriving at the bar, watching Sam flirt with some chick and then briefly regain consciousness a couple of hours ago. And then he remembered that he was tied up. He could remember struggling and waiting patiently for the creature that had kidnapped him to arrive. He must've fallen asleep waiting.

Then she came into view. As soon as she did, Dean recognised her. The red-head from the bar.

It all started coming back to him; the flirting, the inebriation, going back to her apartment.

'_Oh god,' _he chided himself. _'How could I have been so stupid? She drugged the beer.'_

This wasn't her apartment though; this was some kind of basement. And it looked as if it was very isolated.

"Hey there, Sunshine," he heard the chipper, Texan voice and realised that she knew he was awake. "You've been asleep for a while, I was beginning to wonder if I'd put too much poison in your drink. That would've been a disaster, wouldn't it?"

She took a few steps toward him.

"I wouldn't want you dead before you got to suffer a little first."

Dean rolled his head around, trying to work the stiffness out of it. It was at that moment that he acknowledged that his brother was not with him. All of the concern he had for himself melted away and was quickly replaced with concern for Sam's safety.

"Where's my brother?" He managed to choke out, not used to using his throat again.

She grinned and took another devious step forward, clapping her hands together like she was teaching a kindergarten class.

"You know what?" She chirped. "I'd worry more about you right now."

Suddenly she dropped her smirk, the first time since Dean had woken, and strode to him. She bent over his sitting body and threw a fist into his face. He cried out with pain, she had hit surprisingly hard for a delicate looking woman. He wasn't expecting her to move like she did, with no explanation she had struck. It was almost like she had been trained.

"What the hell's wrong with you, you crazy bitch?!" He spat blood at her.

She slowly wiped her bloody knuckles on his jeans. The chilling grin spread across her face again.

"Bitch? Well that's not very polite now is it Deany-boy?" She asked him slowly. "I think, seeing as though you're sitting with you're hands tied behind you're back and I'm standing with an array of shiny torture equipment at my fingertips, that you should try your best not to make me upset."

With that she ripped his shirt away from his torso and pulled her fingers across his chest, gathering his skin under her pointy, blood coloured fingernails.

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Sam had looked everywhere. Absolutely everywhere he could think of he had torn to shreds at least three times over. He tried not to stop and think because he knew that if he did his mind would wander to places he didn't want it to wander. He got images of his brother lying bruised and bleeding in a gutter somewhere calling Sam's name for help. The youngest Winchester shuddered and strained himself to keep from vomiting up his empty stomach. He'd exhausted his resources and himself, but after 48 hours his brother still hadn't contacted him. Whenever Sam dialled Dean's mobile it would ring until Dean's message machine answered.

Sam stood tensely at the door of the impala taking deep breaths and trying not to pass out from fear. He breathed in as evenly as he could; letting the cold air spread throughout his body before heavily letting it go. He could feel the tears threatening his eyes from frustration and anger and panic. He couldn't let himself fall now, he wanted to but he couldn't, not when Dean wasn't there to catch him. Not when Dean was counting on him, not when his older brother was MIA. Sam was alone in this; he couldn't turn to Dean for support this time. When Jess died he'd thought he was alone, but before he realised he could count on Dean, the same when his Father had died he knew he wasn't alone because Dean was right there with him. Right now he really was alone. His feelings overwhelmed him suddenly to the point of shock. Sam laid his head in his hands and leaned down into a crouch, leaning on his missing brother's beloved impala.

Suddenly he felt the familiar sensation of his phone vibrating, the main indication of an incoming call. Sam fumbled with his phone, frantically scrambling to retrieve it. He knew deep down that it wasn't Dean, but still he clung desperately to the idea. He felt the colour drain out of his face when the caller ID informed him that it was Imogen calling him. He reluctantly answered the phone, fully intending to get rid of her as quickly as possible. Maybe that would motivate him to continue his search.

He flipped open his phone roughly and spoke into the mouthpiece.

"Hello?" He asked trying to keep his voice even and normal.

"Sam? This is Imogen. I need to speak with you," she replied in a somewhat urgent tone.

"It's really not a good time," he heard his own voice breaking but knew there was nothing he could do about it.

"I understand," she replied knowingly. "But this is about Dean."

Sam breathed out in shock. He wasn't expecting that.


	6. Confession

Sam sat at the cool, marble table in the back of the café. He sat uncomfortably waiting for Imogen to show up. Her call had surprised him and she'd been so mysterious that it seemed as if she was talking in riddles. All he was able to understand was that she wanted him to meet her at the Clearwater café on the furthest table to the back. So here he was. It was impossible for him to not be impatient right now, Dean was missing and every minute that ticked by Sam was not doing anything to change that fact. Imogen was keeping him from his brother and he hated her for that, if only she understood the urgency of the situation. The only thing that stopped Sam from standing up and leaving was the mention of Dean on the phone. Hearing Imogen say his name reminded Sam that his brother had once existed in his life, it was hard to remember that reality. It felt like months since the boys had been together.

Sam felt a hundred years old with the weight of sleepless nights bearing down on him angrily. As he sat, slumped against the backrest, fatigue finally started catching up with him, he hadn't stopped moving for two and a half days straight. He hadn't eaten, he'd hardly even drank enough water to keep himself hydrated. But he sternly told himself that if he let himself rest he wouldn't get up again.

He heard shuffling from behind him, he turned in time to see Imogen rushing toward his table. Her face was pale and severe. She looked determined as she nodded a greeting at him. She didn't smile, which made her face look wrong somehow. Her lips were fuller when they pursed into a shallow frown and her eyes seemed smaller when her eyebrows pulled together.

She sat to in the chair on the other side of the table and laid her elbows on the table.

"What's going on, Imogen?" Sam asked anxiously.

"I need to tell you something, Sam," she started reluctantly. "You won't like what I have to tell you, in fact you might not want to see me again, but what I have to tell you is very important. When I start you can't interrupt me because if you do I'll never be able to spit it out entirely. It has to do with Dean."

Sam's stomach dropped, this didn't sound positive. Not good at all. He nodded at her to continue.

"I'll start at the beginning," she breathed in as if what she was about to say was the most important thing she'll ever have to say. "My name is Imogen Rose; I'm the daughter of Gerard and Selene Rose."

Sam had no idea where this story was going, but still he listened.

She continued.

"I am a hunter, not unlike you and Dean. But instead of travelling with my brother, I travelled with my parents. We constantly moved around Australia hunting the things that lived in the shadows. My parents were famous; they were the first true hunters in Australia. For as long as I could remember they had killed the things in my closet.

One night when I was sixteen a wendigo broke into my house, killed my Mother and Father and only just left me alive."

Sam was flabbergasted, his breath caught in his throat.

He swore he wouldn't interrupt her, it was almost impossible for him to not say anything, to yell and scream at her, to ask her why she'd kept this from him and how she knew about him and Dean. But he felt sorry for her, she must have gone through what Sam had when her mother and father died, so he kept his mouth shut. He raised his eyebrows slightly to show her he was still listening.

"I tried so hard to get my life back in Melbourne on track," She smiled faintly. "But our home just didn't feel right without them. I'd heard amazing stories from hunters in the states about the kind of monsters and demons they had fought and I jumped at the idea that maybe I could make something of myself, start fresh. I moved to Texas when I was eighteen. That is when I met Adelaide."

Imogen raised her eyes to check if he was still paying attention. She was satisfied by his concentrated expression, so she went on.

"I met her in a hunter's bar in San Antonio and we sort of became a team. She had my back and I had hers. She even set me up with her brother, David."

Imogen started to fiddle with her engagement ring distractedly.

"He asked me to marry him," she stated, sounding vaguely saddened but smiling wearily. "Not straight away of course. We travelled around for a little while as a hunting trio, Adelaide and I become best friends in the process. Two years ago Dave asked me. I remember it so clearly, it was simple. He just took me to the beach, got onto his knee and gave me this."

She no longer seemed to be talking to anybody but herself. She quickly snapped out of her daze and looked at Sam meaningfully.

"I'm telling you this because I need you to know me, I need you to know the reasons I did what I did."

This made Sam suddenly nervous. This conversation was heading in the direction of Dean. This hadn't been a coincidence. Meeting Adelaide, meeting Imogen, it had all been set up. He had to listen to her conclusion; he was enthralled by her story.

"Thirteen months ago my fiancée, the love of my life, walked into Ellen's roadhouse and never came out again," she stated carefully. "We knew who you were, Sam, when we saw you and Dean the other night in the pub. This is so hard, but I have to tell you that Adelaide thinks Dean was the one who… Blew up the roadhouse."

"WHAT?" Sam screamed as he pushed himself away from the table angrily. "Has she got him now?"

"You have to understand, Sam," she pleaded. "She saw Dean leaving the wreck after it happened. With your friend Bobby. I believed it was their fault for a whole year. Up until I met you. As soon as I saw you look at your brother with such protectiveness, with such admiration I knew that he couldn't possibly be involved with something like that, to have someone like you look up to him like that. I knew in my heart that it wasn't Dean, but I wanted so badly to know who did that to my David. You have to forgive me, Sam!"

"Where are they?"


	7. To the rescue

**Hi!**

**Thank you if you've read this far into this story. I really appreciate it. I hope people like it. **

**If you feel the urge to leave a review it go ahead wink wink. Don't be shy, go ahead and tell me what's wrong with it.**

**Oh, and please don't sue me, I don't own the Winchesters. I'm just borrowing them. **

**Thank you for reading.**

**Erin XXX**

Dean fought to stay conscious as he pulled his arms inconspicuously up and down against the broken glass that slowly sliced through the ropes binding his wrists. He was so close to cutting all the way through he knew that all he needed to do was keep his jaded eyes open for a few more minutes. It was a very difficult task.

He tried to keep the impending darkness away by thinking of an escape route, weighing all the possible ways of getting out. If he fell asleep now he probably wouldn't wake up. Adelaide had beat him pretty badly using the butt of her gun, he probably had a concussion.

"Are trying to hurt me?" He asked her with a slight grin. "Coz I'm kind of used to getting treated like this by chicks."

He was trying to make a distraction while the glass tore through the last threads of the rope binding him.

"Although they don't usually get this physical to the third date."

"Are you trying to be funny?" She asked him, contempt filling her voice.

"I'm not trying, babe, it just comes naturally," He replied.

He smiled at her then, the amusement not completely reaching his eyes.

"Try this!"

She rushed at him and hit his cheek with her gun again and it stung like hell. He was able to keep his head in a vertical position, it hadn't been hard enough to knock him out, but it was going to leave a nasty bruise.

"Why don't you try to be a smart ass again," she threatened. "And then we'll see who's laughing."

Adelaide turned her back on him and he realised this was his chance to get out. He tensed his hands and finally felt the now loose rope give way. With his hands still wrapped behind his back he threw the piece of glass against the far wall, it smashed into tiny pieces and made a loud crashing sound. As Adelaide turned to the wall to see what had made the noise Dean made his escape. He pushed himself to his feet in one swift, well-practiced motion. He instantly felt his head spin. He fought to keep the nausea at bay while he charged at her turned back.

Dean was able to grab her around the neck but suddenly lost his balance and loosened his already dainty grip on her. She spun and pushed him away easily, backing him into the brick pillar in the middle of the small room. Before he had time to compose himself she had pulled out her gun and cocked it in his direction.

"I was going to wait," she had stated as if it was obvious. "But now is fine too, you look ragged enough. I hope you enjoyed this experience, it's the last one you'll ever have."

The tall guy that burst through the metal door at that moment was a shock to both the hunter and the hunted, it took Dean several seconds to realise that the man dashing to save him was his brother. Dean couldn't hold in his joy, he smiled in relief before remembering his situation.

Sam stood in the empty doorway as Adelaide pointed her gun at him instead.

"Sam?" She gasped in recognition. "How did you find us?"

She sounded utterly surprised by his appearance.

"I have my ways," He retorted. "I need you to listen to me Adelaide, I know how you must be feeling right now, but what you think Dean did, he didn't do it. He was looking for me, that's why he went to the roadhouse. He was as shocked as you were to find it like that. Why would he do something so horrible? Ash was our friend. Ellen still is, we'd never hurt her like that."

Dean was trying to keep up with the conversation, what exactly was it that Adelaide thought he had done? Did she think that he burnt down the roadhouse?

"Who was it then?" She asked him.

"I don't know," Sam admitted reluctantly.

"Likely," she sneered with loathing. She didn't take her eyes off Sam except to make sure Dean hadn't moved. "You should have just made something up."

_She's going to shoot him_ Dean fathomed suddenly. He tried to force his body to move in the direction he wanted it to, but he was too late.

"This is perfect," Adelaide muttered before she pulled the trigger. "A brother for a brother."


	8. The reason

**Okay, this is the second last posty thing (i think).**

**I'm thanking people for their reviews, because it means a lot that you took the time to not only read it but review it as** **well. **

**Feel free to write more reviews if you feel like it. Thank you anyway if you don't.**

**Erin **

Sam didn't feel the bullet straight away. He heard the gun go off, he saw it smoke, but he didn't feel the searing pain until he looked down and saw the blood pouring from his left hip. He suddenly felt his legs tremble and give way underneath him. He knew the next feeling would be him hitting the ground with remarkable force, but he never did. Instead he felt strong arms catch under his armpits with powerful docility. His brother was had grabbed him and was placing him gently on the ground, leaning his back against the closest brick wall.

It wasn't until Sam was fully sitting that he felt the overwhelming agony engulf his entire body. The fire started in his stomach and in a flash had raced up his chest, into his head, through his arms and down his legs. Sam winced from the pain, remembering the only other time he'd been through so much affliction, and he'd died from that experience. He remembered his brother running to catch him, just the same as he had done now and he remembered the burning sensation, as clearly as he was experiencing it right now. The only difference being that this time he was determined not to let the fire take him. He would fight off the darkness as long as Dean needed him. If he left now Sam was certain that his brother would do something stupid, much like how he'd reacted last time. So he kept his eyes open.

As Sam focused on what was in front of him he realised that Dean was kneeling next to him, blood dripping down his face, looking panicked.

"I'm alright," Sam managed to groan.

"Yeah, I can see that," Dean replied sarcastically. "The bullet wound must just be some bold fashion statement, huh?"

Somehow Sam let out a pained snigger. He'd missed Dean so much in the last couple of days that his humour almost made Sam forget that he was losing blood at a rapid rate.

"You okay?" Sam concerned question came out in a whisper, staring at Dean's injuries and trying to forget the sickening stiffness his gunshot wound was causing.

"Try not to move too much. Don't worry about me," Dean ordered, noticing his brother's discomfort. All the dry sarcasm was completely gone from his voice as he ignored Sam's questioning. "Just try to stay awake, okay? I want you to talk to me."

"I always was a sucky shot," an angry voice came from behind Dean. Sam had almost forgotten Adelaide was still in the room, let alone still holding the gun in his direction.

Before Sam could do anything Adelaide had brought the handle of her gun down onto Dean's head. He fell limply onto Sam's immobile legs. There was no time to react before she repeated her act, only this time on the younger brother. Sam looked at his unconscious brother when the darkness took him over.

---------------------------------------------------

Dean woke with a start, his head throbbing viciously. It took his eyes only seconds to adjust to the dim light, but it took him a few minutes to remember where he was and what had just happened. Suddenly his breathing increased as the memories of his brother being shot flooded back to him. His eyes wandered frantically as he looked for Sam through the dust. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. The young Winchester still lay slumped against the wall Dean had sat him against. Only now his face was almost a crystalline white with glistening beads of sweat hung from his cheeks and nose. The only indicator that Sam was even still living was his laboured, uneven breathing. This was enough for Dean to calm down a little, at least his brother was alive and right now that was all that mattered.

Dean didn't have to move a muscle to know that he was tied up again, in the exact position as before no less. But this time the rope binding his wrists was tighter and almost cut off the circulation. He moved sorely to a more comfortable placement against his pillar.

For a minute Dean sat completely still, staring at Sam's chest making sure that his breathing was constant, making sure that he wasn't imagining the sounds of his brother was making.

Dean heard a noise coming from the corner of the room that caught his attention, when he turned to look he realised that Adelaide was still in the room staring at him intently. It shocked him that he hadn't even noticed her; she must have been standing there the entire time, watching him watch Sam.

She moved foreward, carelessly flinging a steak knife in her hand as he approached Sam's slightly moving body. She leaned over him, but looked at Dean at the same time.

"Have you ever heard of a woman named Delilah Jones?" She asked, her question directed at the elder brother. He just glared wrathfully at her in return. "No, of course you haven't. Delilah Jones was a hunter. Like me. She saved a nine year old boy from a Wendigo, sacrificing her own arm to do it. What about Jasper Parker? Jasper saved a family of campers from a pack of vampires while he was only seventeen. Have you heard of Santiago Gomez? Avery Thomas? Catharine Cole? Ringing any bells?"

She was getting worked up and Dean was worried she might do something to Sam while she stood so close to him with that knife.

"You're a hunter?" He asked, trying to distract her from Sam and trying to come to grips with this fact as well.

She went on as if he hadn't said anything at all. In one fluid motion she stood up straight and started crossing the room towards Dean, leaving Sam unattended.

"Dietrich Arnold? Kit Garner? What about David Lerner?" A look crossed her face then that Dean couldn't decipher, like sorrow or some kind of anguish. "I bet you've never heard of David Lerner, have you? A hunter since the age of ten, killed so many demons I couldn't keep track, engaged and I can tell you that he was only twenty-five when he walked into a certain roadhouse some thirteen months ago and was blown to shreds. So many people are dead because of you, Dean Winchester, so many good people; Santiago, Kit, Jasper, they were all in that bar when it exploded. My little brother, David, is dead because of you. I'm going to give you the chance to admit it quietly. Why did you do it?"

Adelaide's eyes were wet but she ignored them, keeping her eyes focused on Dean's, trying to intimidate him into confessing.

"I didn't blow up Ellen's roadhouse," Dean responded patently.

She smiled bitterly at him as she smashed his cheek with the handle of her knife. He felt the sensation of warmth running down his face before he realised it was his own blood. The gash suddenly hurt like hell, but it was easy for Dean to ignore the pain considering the resistance he had built up from years of hunting things that were capable of much agonising inflictions.

"Let's try this again, Dean. Why did you do it?"

"I'll tell you if… only if you let Sam go," Dean tried a new angle. If he could convince her to let Sam go he could then figure out his next move. "Then I'll tell you everything you want to know."

He watched as she weighed her options. Dean could practically see the machines in her brain ticking away, silently deliberating the fate of his brother.

"No," she raised her eyebrows defiantly. "I know you killed my brother, I don't actually care if you admit it or not. If I kill your brother then we're square. I might even let you go. But probably not."

She hesitated for a minute before rushing to the side of the still unconscious Sam. She expertly held the knife to Sam's throat as if she were threatening Dean.

"Please don't!" Dean heard himself yell, unable to stop the terror in his own voice.

A wide smirk pulled her beautiful face up into one of malevolent triumph.

"He's been bleeding pretty heavily for the last hour. I might not have to even do anything…"

"Adelaide!" A soft voice demanded softly from behind Dean. It was a woman's voice, a woman with an Australian accent.

"Imogen?" Adelaide cried out in shock and almost sliced through Sam's neck in fright.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The woman named Imogen stepped out from behind Dean's pillar. He recognised her immediately as the woman Sam had flirted with the other night at the bar. "Get away from him! This wasn't the plan."

"I know, Gen, but if Sam's dead Dean'll know how it feels to lose a brother," Adelaide pleaded.

"Adelaide, this wasn't the plan. Sam's innocent. We don't kill innocent people."

"Dave was innocent. You do remember David don't you? Your fiancée?" Adelaide asked condescendingly, obviously getting a little annoyed at her partner's reluctance to 'join the fun'.

"Dean's innocent too, you know." it wasn't a question. "We both wanted so badly to blame someone that we didn't care who. We have to let Dean go. He didn't do it, Addy."

Dean figured out that the two must know each other well enough to call each other by their nicknames. He hoped that Adelaide trusted Imogen well enough to trust her on this.

"Yes, he did," Adelaide's voice was dripping with uncertainty. "He did it, I'm sure. I saw him leave while the place was practically still smoking."

"You have to trust me," Imogen was slowly moving closer to the armed woman while she talked, trying to distract her. "The Winchester's are innocent."

Unexpectedly, Imogen threw her foot aggressively into Adelaide's chest, winding the shorter girl and making her drop the knife.

"I'm sorry, Addy, but you're not thinking straight."

Imogen grabbed Adelaide's shocked face and pushed it into her knee with enough force to knock her out cold. Adelaide's limp body fell to the floor with a thud.

Dean watched in disbelief as Imogen dropped Adelaide's body onto the cement and proceeded to tie her up with rope that was neatly rolled up on the ground before heading towards Sam.

"Don't touch my brother!" Dean ordered as she reached out to touch his unconscious face.

Without a word she stopped in her tracks. She breathed out and slowly turned to face Dean, her expression full of regret.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

She used her fallen partner's knife to cut through the rope that bound Dean's hands together. Before he had time to think he was at Sam's side, surveying his brother's wound. Adelaide had been right; Sam was still bleeding heavily and the area all around the gunshot wound was caked with dry crimson.

Sam's face was a pasty white, the only contrast being the dark hair that hung low across his damp forehead. His head rested limply on his shoulder with his arms loosely sat at his sides.

"You better take him to the hospital," Imogen suddenly said as she watched the elder Winchester inspect the man she had just saved. "He doesn't look like he will last much longer."

After a long silence Dean nodded and wiped his brother's face. "What about her?" He motioned to Adelaide with his head.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of her,"

Dean softly shook Sam's shoulder and placed his free hand on the man's cold face.

"Sam," he whispered gently. "C'mon, man, we have to go."

Sam stirred before partially opening his eyes, closing them instantly when the light pierced his pupils.

"Dean?" he asked groggily.

"Hey," Dean greeted, relief clogging his usually confident voice. "How you feeling?"

"Peachy."

Sam's attempt at sarcasm sent a pang of joy through Dean's body.

"C'mon, Sammy, we gotta get you outta here."

Dean carefully lifted Sam to his feet, raised his brother's arm over his shoulder for support and left Imogen alone with Adelaide without speaking another word to her.


	9. Heart to heart

**Hey guys,**

**Thanks again for the reviews. **

**This is the last chapter. I know it's not so good, but i really wasn't sure how to finish it.**

**If you don't like it you could always review and tell me why :P Or you could review anyway. C'mon, you know you want to.**

**I don't anything related to supernatural [except for Jared, but that's private. Well, that was a lie but one day we'll see who's laughing, Kripke! **

**Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.**

**XXXXXXXXX**

"Stay awake." Dean sternly told his brother, who sat, slumped against the passenger door.

Dean had placed Sam carefully into the seats as quickly as possible before he took off to the nearest hospital. It wasn't far away, but Sam was in bad shape. Blood was caked on his coat and poured angrily onto the seats of the impala. Sam's pale face was in painful distortion, cringing at every bump in the road.

"Sam. Sam? Keep your eyes open."

"Where's Adelaide?" Sam's voice was weak and quivering.

"She's with Imogen, don't worry about it now."

Sam felt himself falling into blackness again, less painfully this time. This time it felt like he was simply falling into a dream. He heard Dean yelling at him, telling him to stay awake, but he couldn't listen, he couldn't make out the words. He tried to keep himself conscious, he didn't want his brother to worry about him. Sam knew he wasn't dying, it felt different to what he felt when he had died, but he could feel himself leaving.

He felt his brother shake him and push something dry against his cold, bloodied wound before he was completely insentient.

-----------------------------------------------------

Dean paced the lime green halls of Richard Banks memorial hospital, his mind whirling with the most negative thoughts.

Sam had been unconscious when the chevy finally reached the hospital, Dean had been unable to wake his little brother to get him inside so he'd had to run and get a doctor himself. The doctor's reaction was alarming, immediately rushing for a gurney.

Seven hours had passed and the only times Dean had rested was when he had to fill out the forms the nurses handed to him and when he had his head checked by a doctor.

"Mr. Winchester? I'm Dr. Christovski," The doctor held out his hand to shake with the younger man.

"What's going on with Sam?"

"Well, your brother has suffered from severe blood loss, damage to his pelvic bone and a serious concussion. We transfused the blood that you kindly donated and reset the pelvic bone so that when it heals there won't be any problems. We were also able to remove the bullet without any major problems arising. I'd say, barring any major complications, Sam should make a full recovery."

Dean breathed out, realising that he'd been holding his breathe since the doctor had started talking.

"Can I see him?" Dean asked, silently begging the doctor to allow him to.

"Well, I don't see why not. But make it brief, he needs his rest."

Dean nodded as he forced his feet in the direction of Sam's room.

As he entered he was relieved to see Sam was hooked up to very few machines, always a good sign.

The youngest Winchester had his eyes closed, but when he heard somebody in his room his eyelids slowly fluttered open.

"Hey," Sam's voice was hoarse and rather quiet, Dean had to strain to hear it.

"Hey, yourself." Dean retorted softly. "How you doin'?"

Sam winced slightly as he tried a new sitting position. "Well I can't really complain. I suppose I feel as well as to be expected after being shot by a psycho."

Dean looked at his little brother for longer than a minute in silence. He was trying to think of something to say, maybe something witty or funny. But the only thoughts that came to him were extremely non-Dean things to say, so he didn't say anything.

"Listen, Sam," Dean started sincerely. "You saved my life back there and…"

"Dean, I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done for me." Sam interrupted quietly.

"But it's my job to look after you and I didn't do that well enough and you almost got killed. I don't mean to sound like a girl but you're the most important thing in the world to me and I'd never forgive myself if something bad happened to you."

"You're as important to me as I am to you. Why do you think I tried so hard to get you out of that deal? I don't regret anything I've ever done if it means you're safe. I'd do it all again tomorrow if I had to. I still owe you so much. I don't want you to feel guilty or blame yourself for anything that happens to me. You're my brother and I'd do anything for you." Sam's eyes went puppy dog for a split second before he again winced in pain as he tried to move.

Dean still felt extremely guilty for his part in the incident but decided to drop it. His brother had the finality in his voice that usually meant he won't back down until he's won. So the issue was saved for another time.

"Dude, you almost got laid. I'm so proud." Dean attempted to lighten the mood. It worked briefly as Sam let himself grin.

"Wait a minute. Where's Adelaide?" He asked suddenly, his face dropping into a frown.

Dean remembered that Sam had been practically unconscious when they'd left the girls.

"She's with Imogen. Your girlfriend saved our lives so I kind of trust her with making sure that bitch doesn't come after us again." Dean saw Sam's nose wrinkle in confusion, but went on.

"I actually feel sorry for her. She lost her brother. I know what that's like and although I she tried to kill both of us I can't wish that on anybody. I never want to feel that way again. If I hadn't made that deal I would probably would have done the exact same things she's done."

The brothers sat silently, both knowing that statement to be true. Both hoped to God that they would never have to face losing the other but both knowing that one day they'll have to.


End file.
